Under the Spyâs Protection
When Gemma Lyfeld inadvertently interrupts a dangerous smuggling operation in her English village, sheâs rescued by a mysterious Scottish spy. Now with criminals after her and her hopes for an expected marriage proposal recently dashed, she will make her society debut in London. But not without the man tasked with protecting her...
Covert government agent Tavin Knox must keep Gemma safe from the criminals who think she can identify themâa mission he never wanted. But as he escorts her and her rascally nephews around London, the lovely English lass proves braver than he ever imagined. Suddenly, the spy who works alone has one Season to become the family man he never dreamed heâd be.
âYou must judge me a callous creature,â Gemma said.
âCallous? No, but you are many other things,â Tavin responded. âPatient with your nephews. Generous with your family. Defiant with me. But not callous.â
ââTis no excuse, but when I did not receive the expected proposal of marriage, I saw few options for my future. I could become a governess or wed. But I choose to stay with my nephews because they need me and I...need them.â
Would Tavin make the same choice? Heâd left home, but then again, there was no one there for him to love. Or who loved him. âI see.â
âSo I made a decision.â Her lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks.
Tavinâs gaze fixed on her.
âI chose to squeeze every moment of pleasure out of the Season as I could. No matter what, because this was my sole chance to experience adventure. Fun. I suppose that I pushed away any nagging of conscience, as if later, had I inconvenienced anyone, I could ask for forgiveness.â
He resumed pacing over the gravel. Oh, if forgiveness were that simple. But whatever Gemma had done that needed clemency could not compare to his blotted past.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing The Reluctant Guardian. I hope you enjoyed spending time with Tavin and Gemma in Regency-era Britain.
There is no record of the Board of Customs ever employing undercover operatives like Tavin (although you and I know the truth!), but the âLady in Redâ mentioned in the story was a real person. In the early 1800s, a young woman named Lovey Warne assisted her familyâs illegal smuggling endeavors by climbing Vereley Hill in Hampshire to look out for revenue men. If she saw any, sheâd signal her brothers below to stay away by donning a red cloak.
Itâs hard to believe smugglers were so bold as to carry out their illicit trade in broad daylight, but the historical account of a fellow named Warner claims a caravan of over twenty wagons hauled smuggled goods from Christchurch into the New Forest during the day, guarded by over two hundred horsemen! A solitary revenue agent on patrol stood no chance against such an army, day or night.
Should you pass through Hampshire today, you can visit Vereley Hill (quite similar to Gemmaâs Verity Hill) and stand in Lovey Warneâs footsteps. Perhaps you can even imagine Gemma in her red cloak, arm in arm with Tavin, as they enjoy the view and keep a careful eye on Petey and Eddie, who are getting into all kinds of mischief.
I love hearing from readers, and if youâd like to say hello, please drop by my website, www.susannedietze.com, or my Facebook page, SusanneDietzeBooks.
May the Lord bless you and keep you!
Susanne
SUSANNE DIETZE began writing love stories in high school, casting her friends in the starring roles. Today, sheâs blessed to be the author of over half a dozen historical romances. Married to a pastor and the mom of two, Susanne loves fancy-schmancy tea parties, cozy socks, and curling up on the couch with a costume drama and a plate of nachos. You can find her online at www.susannedietze.com.
So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.
âJohn 8:36
For Karl, my champion, who encouraged my writing, endured historical fashion exhibits, listened while I gabbed about my imaginary friends and always believed this day would come. Iâm glad youâre mine, honey.
Chapter One
Hampshire, England, 1817
With a furtive pat, Gemma Lyfeld blotted her nerve-damp palms on her white muslin gown. It would not do to receive a marriage proposal with moist hands. Or silly apprehensions. Besides, it was just Hugh. Her neighbor.
And sheâd been expecting this moment since she was a child. Today, at long last, heâd requested privacy with her in the drawing room.
She shifted closer on the sofa to the Honorable Hugh Beauchamp and placed her clammy hands in his. It had been years since sheâd sat this close to him, eye level with the crescent-moon scar on his chin heâd received when they were eight.